An ode to the smiling lotus
Call it irony, first defining image of Kamal Haasan a self-avowed atheist was in a film song in praise of Lord Murugan. Kalathur Kannamma was a critical and commercial success.
But the performance of the child artiste featured in the song “Ammavum neeye appavum neeye” earned applause from everyone. Gemini Ganeshan and Savithri the lead actors of that film were in colloquial terms, a hit Jodi. They had starred in many films together. Their chemistry extended in their real life, too and was fodder for much gossip. But even as a child, Kamal left his mark with his performance, perhaps managed to dwarf two fine actors whose presence created magic whenever they came together on screen.
He will repeat the same feat many years later in a film called “Sagar” which featured Rishi Kapoor and Dimple Kapadia, an onscreen couple whom the audience adored. But Haasan stole the show. He lost the girl in the movie but won the audiences’ heart and walked away with a filmfare award for the best actor. He was also nominated for the best supporting actor for the same film. Apparently the only second actor to have that honour after Ashok Kumar.
Born as the youngest child of a lawyer and freedom fighter Kamal got a lucky break in films when AV Meiyappa Chettiar, the owner of AVM films, spotted him at a party. It’s another irony, Kamal was sent to Madras with his mother, who had gone there for some medical treatment so that he could get some quality education. But he ended up joining films, lost interest in studies and discontinued his formal education. His educated and progressive family was kind enough to allow him to pursue his interest. And rest, as they say, is history. Kamal’s life is a perfect example of how a lucky confluence of talent, ambition, sheer hard work and a supportive environment can propel an individual to dizzying heights.
Kamal’s life could have been a case study for Malcolm Gladwell. As Gladwell once wrote, an individual’s success has many more variables than society or popular myths of success admit. And success is a lot more than hustle and hard work.
Kamal was born into a Tamil brahmin family, and tambrahms of that vintage had an obsession with academic excellence (to a great extent, it is true even to this day). His father and older brother were trained lawyers. It’s almost unimaginable to fathom that a family from a small village in Tamil Nadu belonging to a community known for its aggressive pursuit of academic excellence allowed a child to pursue his dream. By his admission, his family was acquainted with classical music and arts. His older brothers were cinephiles. All that came in handy when Kamal built his career. As a kid he once impressed Mohammed Rafi by singing “Dil dekhe dekhi dil dekhe dekho ji”.
But one cannot be happier, for he continues to entertain us for more than six decades, pushed the boundaries of his craft and brilliantly enacted an entire range of emotions that many may not experience in our lifetime.
And in the process evoked intense empathy for his onscreen characters. We rooted for him during the climax of Moondram Pirai, laughed when he played Sakthivel Gounder, the rustic but well-intentioned medic who tries to save his friend’s crumbling marriage. We got disillusioned along with Rangan in “Varumai Niram Sivappu’ and felt the world is too much of a nasty place for good people. We felt exasperated when Sakthivel became an unfortunate victim of the system he wanted to reform in “Thevar Magan”. And wondered if someone would ever love us like the way Guna loved Abhirami.
His journey from heights to heights also brought with it its share of mistakes and disappointments. His affairs and broken marriages earned much scorn from his countrymen, who wear prudishness as a badge of honour. His atheism and admiration for Tamil rationalists shocked his community, who felt wronged by the same men.
His intellectual pretensions and monologues in literary Tamil (which at times sound like gibberish) irritated even his diehard fans. He was accused of ghost directing his films. Maybe somewhere, he lost interest in his craft. His detour to politics could be because of that.
But Kamal is criticised more than what he is given credit for. He tried to achieve excellence in other areas than acting. For sure, he made a mark as a screenwriter. Thevar Magan is one of the most brilliant adaptations of Godfather. And even Mani Ratnam admitted that Nayakan is as much Kamal’s film as his. He lavished praise on costars who acted well like Om Puri and Naseeruddin Shah. He played the husband’s role of Kovai Sarala, a comic actor in “Sathileelavathi”. Such gestures are rare in tinsel town.
Sometimes one wishes he focussed on his craft and brought us an Oscar-like AR Rahman. But success is like riding a tiger one small misstep, and you are doomed. It has been more than a decade since I enjoyed a Kamal Haasan film. At 67, Kamal perhaps has another decade of productive work left in him. We can only hope that we will see the onscreen magic we saw a million times from him. But I desperately he does that favour to his fans before he becomes a memory.
